Peter Lovesey - The Circle

The drive home in the van added nothing to Basil's understanding. Naomi was treating the episode as if it didn't merit an explanation and Basil knew from experience that it wasn't wise to ask. For his own satisfaction he was damned if he'd tell her Maurice had been at the pub. So nothing was said.

Finally she asked, 'What seedlings?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'You said you were pricking out seedlings. What are you growing from seed this late in the year?'

'Lettuces, dear. Late lettuces. You know how we both enjoy a salad.'

Bob didn't expect a call this quick, lunch time the next day.

'This is Thomasine. Are you working tonight?'

'Depends.'

'Could we meet? Something's happened. Well, it's Maurice. They've pulled him in for questioning again and this time it looks serious.'

She was waiting in the Feathers in South Street, and little Dagmar was with her in a state of shock, sipping an Appletiser as if it was neat whisky.

'He's been held for eight hours already' Thomasine said.

'That's a long time considering they questioned him only the day before.'

Dagmar spoke: 'They can keep him for up to thirty-six hours without charging him. They need a warrant to hold him any longer.'

'Dagmar works for a solicitor,' Thomasine said, seeing Bob's reaction to this legal knowhow. 'What's going on, Bob? Maurice is a pussy cat. He wouldn't commit murder.'

'How did you find out?'

'What, that he's been pulled in again? Don't ask.'

Dagmar turned a shade more pink. The best guess was that she'd overheard something at work.

Bob went to the bar and ordered a beer, wondering how this had become his problem. He hadn't even joined their circle, yet Thomasine seemed to think he could save their precious chair from being stitched up. Ah well, he told himself, it's a change from sitting at home trying not to watch EastEnders.

He returned to the table. As if they'd read his mind, Thomasine said, 'We need a man's help with this. If Dagmar or I go in to bat for Maurice, everyone's going to think we have a thing for him, and it's not like that. We just think he's entitled to some back-up.'

'And if you think about the other men in the circle,' Dagmar said, 'well. .' She smiled and shook her head. 'Tudor, Basil, Zach and Anton. They all mean well, but you wouldn't choose them as ambassadors.'

'Do any of them know the police have got him there again?'

'No, it's inside information,' Thomasine said, and Dagmar blushed again.

Bob felt the weight of their confidence in him. 'I'd like to help, but I'm not sure what I can do. If the worst comes to the worst and they charge him with murder, he'll have a legal team defending him.'

Dagmar said, 'We should be doing something now. Every minute could be important.'

'Doing what?'

'We were thinking his partner may know why the police are giving him such a hard time.'

Dagmar said, 'If anyone knows, she will.'

'What's her name?'

'Fran.'

'Have you met her?'

'No. He doesn't bring her to any of our parties.'

'But they live together?'

'Yes. In Lavant,' Dagmar said. 'We had a meeting at the house once, before the club was formed, just Maurice, Naomi and me, and Fran went out for the evening. It's a nice house facing Goodwood and the racecourse.'

'The thing is, I don't really know him at all.'

'She'll know you're okay if you're from the circle,' Thomasine said. 'It's a big part of his life.'

'I need another beer.'

'Is that a good idea? We thought you might have a cup of peppermint tea to mask what you've drunk already.'

'You want me to go up there tonight?'

Maybe tonight was best. By the morning he might think better of it.

They were right about the house. A paved drive, coach lamps, porticoed Georgian front.

Lights were on inside. Someone had heard the chimes and came to the door and the surprise was that she was a little old lady. Not a day under seventy-five, he thought. Soft permed silver hair, pale skin, thin arms. No one had mentioned an elderly parent.

Bob had forgotten Maurice's surname. A bad start. 'I, em, come from the writers' circle. Is Fran at home?'

'You're looking at her.'

He said, 'Ah,' in a way that was meant to sound calm, and didn't. It was more the strangled 'Ah' of a patient at the dentist's.

'Who are you?' she said.

Her voice was strong. Maybe she's younger than she looks, he thought. However hard he tried, he couldn't make her under seventy. 'Em, Bob Naylor.' Honesty was needed here. 'You may not have heard of me.'

'That's true.'

'I don't look the type, I admit, but I'm the new bloke in the circle. They — we — want to help Maurice if we can. We heard they pulled him in again. Is there any more news?'

'He's still there, as far as I know.'

'We think the Old Bill have cocked up.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'The police, ma'am. They're out of order.'

'I'm sure they are but I don't know what any of us can do. You'd better come in, Mr Naylor.'

She opened the door wider.

'This way.' She showed him into a front room out of the 1950s, with three-piece suite, china cabinet, nest of tables, glass-fronted bookcase and a Swiss mountain scene over the fireplace. What was Maurice's game, moving in here with a woman so many years his senior? Maurice as a middle-aged toy boy? It was hard for Bob to get his head around that.

'Tea or coffee?'

'Thanks, but no. Just a chat. The gang — the circle — are trying to decide the best way to help Maurice, but we don't know what we're up against.'

'You're up against the police. It's good of you to offer, but what can anyone do?' She was twisting an embroidered handkerchief around her fingers.

'He told us how Edgar Blacker shafted him over the book.'

'Yes, er, that's a fair summary.'

'Said there was a thumping great row.'

'I believe there was. He felt terribly let down.'

'We feel for him as fellow writers. He also said he didn't start the fire that night, and we believe him.'

'That's reassuring.'

'Well, I guess you know for certain that he's blameless. You would know if he went out that night.'

Fran twisted the handkerchief tighter and sighed. 'That's one of the difficulties. You see, we sleep in separate rooms. About eleven that evening, I went to bed and Maurice said he was going for a walk. He often does about that time, just to look at the stars and get a little exercise before turning in. I never hear him come in. I'm asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow.'

'Shame,' Bob said, and it was an understatement.

'Yes, it is. They haven't come along to question me yet, and I'll have to be truthful if they do.'

'You said that's one of the difficulties. Is there another?'

She sighed. 'I'm afraid there is, but I couldn't possibly divulge it to you, not without Maurice's permission.'

'Something else happened?'

'A long time ago.'

'What — tied in with Edgar Blacker?'

'No. Quite separate.' She raised her hand. 'That's all I can say.'

'But you believe he's innocent?'

'I have total confidence in him, Mr Naylor. I wouldn't share my life with him if I thought he was evil.'

'I don't want to seem nosy, ma'am-'

'Fran. Call me Fran.'

'Fran. How long have you two been together?'

'Nearly ten years. He had a difficult, unhappy marriage and I only met him after it was over. You'll appreciate that there's an age difference between us and some people find it difficult to understand. If the reverse happens — an older man and a younger woman, nobody seems to think anything of it. I don't believe he regards me as a mother figure, as some people suppose, and I certainly don't treat him that way. We have a loving, relaxed relationship. Are you married?'